Slow
by AliceJericho
Summary: George Weasley and Angelina Johnson share their first kiss after a rough night. GW/AJ for Asking Me Where My Love Grows' "First Kiss" Challenge.


**Author's Note: **Apologies if the end seems kind of rushed… I've had the majority of this written for what feels like forever and I was somewhat desperate to finish it off. For _Asking Me Where My Love Grows_' "First Kiss" Challenge!

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><p>"Where have you been?"<p>

George knew it was late. Much later than he had said he was going to be. The clock struck midnight. He hadn't expected her to be awake. It was Tuesday and on Tuesdays she had Quidditch practice for the Chudley Cannons, meaning she was tired and went to bed almost as soon as she arrived home.

"You're still awake?"

"I _wasn't_," she crossed her arms, "but I woke up to use the bathroom, you weren't in there… That was an hour ago. I haven't been able to get back to sleep. Now answer _my_ question: where have you been?"

"I was at work." George, Angelina knew, was lying. "A big delivery came."

"Don't lie to me, George. You know I hate nothing more." She watched his mouth twitch and practically heard his brain tick over as he thought of something to say, "Ron came by once he'd locked up. Where the bloody hell were you?"

"What does it matter? I'm home now."

"Three hours too late!" Angelina was fuming. She wasn't so picky to yell at him for being an hour late, though she'd definitely question it.

"Come off it, Angie. I just want to go to bed."

George set off down the hall towards the bathroom. He brushed past his flatmate without looking at her. He didn't need to.

"Are you drunk?" The redhead didn't answer her question.

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><p>George –wearing only a towel – entered his bedroom hoping he could flop down on the bed and sleep. Contrary to what Angelina believed, George was not drunk. The alcohol she smelt was not on his breath but on his clothes because Lee had managed to get firewhiskey everywhere. George, he had only had one firewhiskey and two butterbeers.<p>

Changing into pyjamas was futile. It was bloody hot outside and he'd only strip out of them during the night. He was, however, unable to do what he wished because Angelina had sat herself on his pillows and was leaning against the headboard.

"I'm not drunk." George said with a sad smile. "Promise." She wasn't even looking at him and he wasn't entirely sure she knew he was in the room. He took a step toward the bed and for the first time that night he realised what she was wearing. A giant jumper labelled with a huge 'F'. "I'm sorry, Angie." He apologised, "I know it's hard on you, too… I was being selfish."

"I just… When you didn't… Ron said you left before him… He came to check on… I didn't go to training. I couldn't go." With every sentence (complete or not), Angelina became sadder and sadder – it was clear to see that she'd been crying.

George sat beside her on the bed and closed his eyes, but not before he took her hand, unsure of what he could say. "I was only thinking about me, Ange… It's a hard day for all of us."

"I thought I'd lost you, too." Angelina revealed with a soft voice and a small sob, "You weren't home and Ron said you should have been… I didn't know what happened."

George then realised that it wasn't just his family who were still grieving. It had been five years since Voldemort fell, 5 years since his brother was killed.

Even though he was only in a towel, George put his arm around Angelina's shoulders and pulled her towards him. He could feel her trying to bite back her sobs and tears. He could still feel his shoulder growing steadily wetter.

"I'm okay. I'm here now." Angie had, since Fred's death, best friend. He had always assumed that she was stronger than him because usually he would be the crier on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. She, apparently, had suppressed her emotion to take care of him.

"I don't want to lose you." His heart tugged at her words. He had been developing feelings for the Chaser since she moved in with him but had never perused her for fear of losing her. To know she felt the same filled him with hope.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He wrapped both arms around her and held her close. "You're stuck with me forever."

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><p>George, unsurprisingly, woke up the next morning without the towel over his body. It had been lost during the tossing and turning of the night prior. He felt different. Ready to conquer the world, perhaps. Knowing that he was able to offer the comfort Angelina needed made him feel like Godric Gryffindor.<p>

"Morning George." He was greeted happily in the kitchen by the reason for his happiness. "Nice to see you're wearing boxers." His cheeks went as red as his hair. She'd seen him fully exposed.

"Morning Angie." He opened the fridge in an attempt to hide and cool his burning face. She wasn't allowed to know that he was embarrassed.

He turned around to find her standing at the stove, probably cooking pancakes. He took a deep breath and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her slim waist.

"George?" Angelina questioned in a confused tone. "What are you doing?" he dropped a kiss to her shoulder, "Seriously, George." He moved back slightly, allowing her to turn around. "What-"

He stopped her by dropping a quick kiss to her lips. It was so quick that he, though he had initiated it, was unsure if it had actually happened. Before he could stop himself, George was leaning in for a better kiss but Angelina's hand came in between their mouths.

"Too fast." She spoke softly and he looked at the ground. Noticing how she had managed to hurt George with two simple words, Angelina lifted his head up and let their lips touch. It was quick and simple like the first kiss… But this time neither was complaining afterwards. "We have to take it slow… Okay?"

"Yeah, slow… Cool."


End file.
